Lately, however, I have been fortunate to really understand and embrace the other aspect of creativity ... and that is community. When people talk about YouTube, nine out of ten times they're talking about the YouTube community. And as I stated in an earlier post, I truly believe that the community exists (or at least SHOULD exist) to support the creative works.

But let's remove YouTube from the equation. I do that everyday. Yes, YouTube is one of the cornerstones of my online activities, but this website and blog IS NOT YouTube. Over on the right I've put a new set of links to some of my favorite personal blogs and sites. For people like Obsquatch and Heather, they put as much of themselves into their writing (or more) as they do in their videos. Their personal blogs ARE NOT YouTube.

But they are, fundamentally, cornerstones of this community. Maybe not the YouTube community at large, but MY community and MY circle ... and the ideas and concepts they encompass are the ideas and concepts that are the cornerstone of said YouTube community.

I bring all of this up because Middlebrook posted a surprisingly heartfelt plea to the people within our YouTube circle. What happened? Where are you? Are you so bereft of ideas that you're incapable of posting a video every now and then? (only he said that last part WAY nicer ... like I said, it was heartfelt.)

This is why we need the community (yeah, even you, Obs): it represents the audience. But it's an audience of peers ... creative minds who are also producing innovative (or at least interesting content). And most importantly:

Creativity feeds on creativity.

I know every time I see a good movie, I leave the theater thinking, "Damn, how can I make something like that?" Some of the most touching and poignant moments in The Beanie Boy Show or Talking Heads (and the literal drive to make these internet shows in the first place) has come from a perpetual love for some truly amazing television shows from Sports Night to Boston Legal all the way to Psych. And I end up sitting down at my computer thinking, "Damn, how can I make something like that?"

When I finally saw WALL-E (which should have won Best Picture ... or at least been nominated ... it should have also won best screenplay) I walked away thinking about Charlie Chaplin films and how the greatest cinematic moments are achieved with no words at all ... and how could I come up with a way to write a silent film screenplay for modern times? The answer, although I've never actually attempted the projected, was a simple love story set on against the background of an alien invasion wherein the alien's first wave of attack is unleashing a virus that renders humans incapable of speech. Suddenly, our main characters literally have no words to express their love for each other on their way to certain death.

Creativity feeds creativity.

If the beast in your mind isn't being fed by the people in your circle or your community or your youtube subscriptions ... ask yourself this: are you doing anything to feed their beasts?